OCTOBER LIGHT

OCTOBER LIGHT Summer’s solstice has ended and October’s light gives us all a chance for new perspective. Even as that light brings a fresh clarity to my thinking, it also foreshadows what the Apostle Paul characterized as “the partial passing away.” The passing away of much that seemed permanent but was only partial has been accelerated in this world where that we thought was built to last is actually an illusion. The One who sits on the throne in The Revelation given to Saint John announces “Behold I make all things new!” We would do well to look to how nature’s patterns echo that promise. Summer’s excesses are pared down as her days wane and just as the harvest is gathered in so we have need to gather up what the waning year has shown us. Most of our days are consumed with the now. What was fulness to us ,what seemed so complete was actually only the partial, for as Paul so aptly puts it “now we see through a mirror dimly, then we shall see face to face.” How can we be shed of that? Autumn forces us to confront in nature’s dance of shedding her clothes an ending that bespeaks a new beginning and the promise of the complete. As the poet Keats aptly puts it in his poem To Autumn, “Thou (Autumn) hast thy music too.” How we need to stop and listen to it! Even as we wind the back roads and circumnavigate the high places on desperate pilgrimages to glimpse the colors of autumn leaves, we know they will soon be driven and tossed by the wind. In a flurry of color, the trees will release their foliage without hesitation. For us this seems the dreaded end. But, we see only the partial. Looking out the picture windows on the front of my home as a child , I would watch the trees on our front lawn in their Fall litany. The leaves would change from green to yellow. Finally, the day would arrive in late October when my brother and I, rakes in hand, would pile the frosted brown leaves on our front lawn while the air hung heavy with the incense of burning leaves in our neighborhood. The smoke would send its signals heavenward, as if we needed to let the Creator know we knew winter was soon upon us. But the falling leaves were not indiscriminately sacrificed. They met their end as a gift to the very earth that gave them life. As Lewis Thomas the biologist and writer reminds us , “we have always had a strong hunch about our beginnings, thus we took the word for earth humus and came to know our selves as human” and one might add, hopefully humble ones at that. It is in these patterns of Autumn that we can see our own life patterns and humbled we must be. As a pastor and hospice chaplain I am a witness every day to the truth that “to every thing there is season.” Our souls need and require this time of gathering in . As nature knows her time has come to settle in, we should know by now the sign when that Fall morning arrives a little sharper and we greet with gladness the woodpile mom remembered to have stacked up beside the house. And so we build the fire, we sip the cider, and we settle in so all can be made complete.

BEYOND THE PEW

BEYOND THE PEW The gurus are scrambling. The recent Pew Report documenting the decline in our nation’s Christian population from 78 per cent to 70 percent is sure to stir up those who busy themselves crunching the numbers and pushing the paper work. My generation of clergy were dazzled by the pyrotechnics of the church growth gurus who admonished us as we approached the new millennium that we needed more mocha with Messiah and Cappuccino with Christ and less doctrine and dogma. So we built believing they would come. The mega church outfitted with all of its technology and pleasure dome aesthetics was the new Oz. Church architecture became about erecting structures that demolished tradition and embraced entertainment. Sacred spaces were stripped of their symbolism and the dominant concern became where do we put the projector and screen. Worship was severed from its historical roots and hymnody displaced by what one church growth specialist called a “soundtrack” for worship “that is determined by what the worship guests listen to on ITunes.” What should cause all of us to set up and take note is what The Pew Report reveals about “generational change.” Many of the shifts outlined above were seen as being necessary for our churches to attract children, youth, and young adults. I myself am a survivor of the “worship wars” that resulted in countless of our congregations dividing their congregations up and defining them as “traditional” and “contemporary” worshippers. As one growth specialist advised “where a congregation is aging and possibly declining it might be best to create two kinds of service, one of them traditional and the other “culturally relevant.” But it is among the population characterized as requiring “cultural relevance” that the rise of “nones” is taking place - those who are less likely to belong to any Christian (or other religious) body. The failure of our churches to pass on the faith to the next generation has to be at the heart of this trend. Worship life and teaching spaces within our faith communities cannot bypass the substance of Christ’s teachings and be driven by the values that define popular entertainment. The exhaustion and burnout seen in many of our clergy and worship leaders is directly tied to their continual quest to remain “culturally relevant.” Spiritual formation takes a back seat to insuring that the image of our churches is “relevant.” Could it be that the decline of the church might be due to our younger generations seeking something beyond what they find at the Apple Store? In our branding of the Church as a commodity that must compete with Silicon Valley, the young who are trying to find the meaning of why we are all here might well be looking for what makes the church different from their I Phone. In the techno driven world they are inheriting might they be craving authentic community versus simulated reality? Jesus chose a real body (the church) here, imperfect and human to carry his message and he assured us that with the Holy Spirit we had everything we needed to do just that. The truth of the Gospel will never rise or fall because of institutional growth or decline. It will live and breathe in and through us or in spite of us and it will never power down. Tweet that.

Pierced Darkness

PIERCED DARKNESS “He thrown everything off balance. If he did what he say he did, there’s nothing for you to do but to throw away everything and follow him. If he did’t, then enjoy the minutes you have left the best you can.” From A GOOD MAN IS HARD TO FIND, Flannery O’Connor William Styron the novelist and author of Sophie’s Choice suffered a crippling depression that he thoughtfully chronicles in his memoir Darkness Visible. On the eve of a contemplated suicide attempt he finds himself sitting in his home in the darkness of what seems an interminable night when the music of Brahms pierces the darkness: “this sound which like all music-indeed all pleasure- I had been numbly unresponsive to for many months, pierced my heart like a dagger, and in a flood of swift recollection I thought of all the joys this house had known …All this I realized was more than I could inflict on these memories, and upon those, so close to me with whom those memories were bound. And just as powerfully I realized I could not commit this desecration on myself….” Styron had dared to face the darkness and lived on because he did. The Gospel of John records the story of a depressed Mary Magdalene going to the tomb of Jesus early on the first day of the week, and then John tellingly says, ”While it was still dark…” Mary the dedicated follower had not abandoned him. But putting one foot in front of the other she forced herself to face the darkness. She had witnessed his miracles and heard the cruel words of his enemies. She had seen love lavished upon him when he entered Jerusalem as well as the lashes unleashed on his burdened back. She had stood in the shadow of his cross and heard his final words. And now she came to honor him with a proper burial….”while it was still dark.” As the poet Milton put it , “no light but darkness visible.” Mary in facing the darkness was actually profoundly living into her faith in a way that my friend and truth teller Barbara Brown Taylor speaks to in her latest book Learning to Walk in the Dark. She dares to ask, “When we run from darkness, how much do we really know about what we are running from? If we turn away from darkness on principle, doing everything we can to avoid it….isn’t there a chance we are running from God?” What will happen next? Mary had to be thinking. Or is there a next? And then reaching the tomb she finds it empty. In the darkness , isn’t it enough to face her loss and now to know that His body is absent?! Is it not enough that he suffered the most degrading of deaths, now his grave has been robbed? She had heard of others who had claimed to be messiah. They too were no more. Like the stone cold memorials of the Roman gods, his tomb was silent and empty. She turns and runs in the darkness to the disciples so they might share in her sadness. Running to the tomb as the light gradually illuminates the scene , John and Peter see what Mary had been unable to see in the darkness. And to her surprise they rejoice. Mary still weeping finally through the blurred vision of her tears and the light of the new day sees Jesus’ garments and two angels sitting where he had been laid in the darkness. That darkness had been pierced by God working even when Mary could not see and could not know. God had thrown death off balance in the shadows. She turns with the angels’ words “He is not here He is risen” lifting her feet from ground only to meet Jesus face to face. The darkness in Mary’s heart has been pierced and her life transformed as Jesus appoints her to preach the good news to his followers: Death is no more… don’t be afraid of the dark! Easter you see means throwing it all away….all our fears….and following him, even in the darkness.

Forty Shades of Purple

FORTY SHADES OF PURPLE Love hurts. At least that seems to be the message of the day. As I write this column the culture is being inundated by a film based on a book that’s subject matter a decade ago would have rarely seen the light of day much less the top of the New York Times Bestseller list. The media frenzy surrounding the film’s release has meant that watching the Today show in the presence of your mother isn’t advisable. A British hotel recently replaced their Gideon Bibles with the bestseller as more suitable reading for their guests because quoting the manager “What ’s the sense of providing a book that no one likes and no one reads.” Underneath this “phenomenon” are deeper issues. In a world daily marred by brutality and violence, we are increasingly numb and desensitized. Violence has become the new pornography in our terror torn world. Those who terrorize us heap upon us that which we seem to pleasure ourselves with the most. “Love” has taken a brutal battering in this society and tragically the very people who bear the scars for it just can’t seem to get enough. Perhaps this is a teachable moment that the Church must not ignore. The love at the heart of the Christian faith has many shades, but none of them are inclusive of domination and violence. Even as the misuse of religion throughout the world’s history and unto this day is obvious, the way of love as seen in Jesus is the way of true liberation. As Christians who have marked the beginning of the season of Lent this week, let us remember that Jesus’ death and passion are not at the hands of an abusive Father/Creator God, but are reflective of God’s giving up of his own heart for the loveless and the unloved. The excesses of violence that debased the truth of Jesus’ death in Mel Gibson’s The Passion of Christ graphically proclaimed that love hurts. This grace through gore approach is not unlike the love through pain message currently being embraced. The theologian Jurgen Moltmann reminds us ” by the cross of Golgotha, God’s being and God’s life is open to we the human.” So to love as Christ loves is never about diminishing another but liberating and elevating the other. The power of this love is the power of new life. To embrace domination and brutality is to dishonor that love and sicken the soul. Lent, the forty days prior to Easter has historically presented the believer with a season of reflection and self discovery in the context of Jesus’s journey to the cross. Lent from an olde English word meaning “spring” corresponds to the forty days of Jesus’ trials and temptations in the desert prior to the beginning of his ministry. Traditionally the season is marked by devotion and fasting. Perhaps the best fast for many of us is a fast from all depictions of brutality and violence. To turn away from viewing violence is not to deny its reality but to deny its power to shape the way we see others and the world. Not coincidentally these forty days have their own palette :The grey of winter gradually gives way to the profusion of spring’s brilliant hues. While we wait in the mean time, purple and its many shades might best color our point of view. You see the color purple has traditionally been associated with mourning and royalty. And it was the color that the Romans dressed Jesus in with their attempt to mock and humiliate him. But, it certainly makes for a better statement than grey.

THE ART OF ADVENT There is an art to Advent: to keeping it. Advent means : “to come” and thus implies “not yet.” The four weeks of Advent are counter-cultural. We don’t do well with the “not yets,” or longing for what we want: we want it now. Longing takes a back seat to wish fulfillment. It is rather ironic that keeping Christ in Christmas has become the rallying cry for those who fear its many secular expressions, because there is no Christ in Christmas without the Christ of Advent. Even in the heyday of Christendom before the secular age, those who depicted the story of the coming of the Messiah in art encoded their images with the longing of Advent: for Christ’s ultimate coming and not just his birth. Longing infuses their images.These visionaries were painting the story of Christ’s first coming with a longing and sense of urgency for a kingdom not of this world because of the rampant injustices of their day. The magnificence of these images lies not only in the technique and the perspective of the artists, but in the way the paintings were grounded in the real stuff of human experience. Leonardo Da Vinci’s painting Virgin of The Rocks in not only considered Da Vinci’s greatest masterpiece it is also one of the most mysterious of paintings. Choosing to present Mary not with The Christ Child seated in her lap, he instead gives us a Madonna enraptured with two infants. Her right arm enfolds a child who is focused not on her as one would expect, but instead who kneels in adoration of the other infant. And with equally intensity that infant’s gaze is directed toward him. The dynamic rapport is natural between the two: the infant John the Baptist under Mary’s right arm knows the one he gazes upon is the one longed for, The Christ. And Christ in turn blesses John. This mystical fellowship is presided over by an angel whose gaze is directed to us as she gestures toward John as if to say to us “do as he doing: kneel in adoration.” And where does Da Vinci depict this divine fellowship? The landscape reflects the drama of the figures. Neither prettified nor softened ,the jagged rocks and craggy formations cloister them while also capturing the whole of creation’s longing. We can almost hear The John the Baptist we will hear from on the Sundays of Advent reminding us as he quotes the prophet Isaiah: “Every Valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made straight….” (Luke 3: 5). Perhaps so many have become so disillusioned with Christmas not just because of its blatant consumerism and profit driven impulses but because we have lost the ART of ADVENT- the art of longing. Recovering its meaning might well mean opening our eyes to the truth of our own longing….”O COME…O COME EMMANUEL…..”

GREAT BOOKS PREACHING SERIES THIS FALL I cannot imagine preaching without reading and I cannot imagine preaching from Scripture without the Great Books. Reading has shaped my life journey. The word disciple best translates “learner” and my spiritual journey is daily interwoven with my being a “life learner.” The classics owe a massive debt to the Bible yet we seldom hear this from the pulpit or otherwise. Biblical illiteracy is at an all time high thus resulting in the Bible fading from our cultural life as well. There can be no real study of the Western Canon of literature without reading the Bible just as Shakespeare and The King James Bible should be read side by side. Nearly every work of great literature is filled with references to Scripture. Adam Nicolson in THE BIBLE OF KING JAMES reminds us: “First printed 400 years ago, it molded the English language, ‘buttressed the powers that be’-one of its famous phrases- and yet enshrined a gospel of individual freedom. No other book has given more to the English-speaking world.” On Sunday September 14 with BIBLE SUNDAY I will begin THE GREAT BOOKS PREACHING SERIES with a sermon on the role of THE KING JAMES BIBLE in culture. We will then be looking at CLASSIC BOOKS throughout the year that reflect the link between THE BIBLE and THE GREAT BOOKS. We will begin with Saint Augustine’s Confessions on September 21. I hope you will join me in this journey and invite others to be a part of our celebration of these GREAT BOOKS that as the writer Marilynne Robinson has reminded us “put flesh on Scripture and doctrine.” Grace and peace, Sonny

Doc's Hands

“If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans.” James Herriot, ALL CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL Knowing my Daddy as I do, if the Heavenly Hosts are not inclusive of “all creatures great and small,” he might ask for a ticket to the other place. I hope this past Monday dispelled any doubts he could have had. Mine certainly were as my family met me at the entrance into The Georgia War Veteran’s Home here in Augusta so that “Doc” as my Daddy has been known in his hometown of Swainsboro, might enter a new phase of his life journey. It was no small “God Thing” that as the caring nursing staff were helping my Daddy out of his vehicle, a happy parade of dogs of every sort were heralding “Doc’s’” arrival. The word of this new resident’s fifty years plus of attending “creatures great and small” obviously had gotten around. As my mother, brother and I wheeled my daddy through the portals , I watched his hands reach out to stroke the coat of yet one more canine. You see as the Creator would have it, Doc’s arrival coincided with the very day that pet therapy is scheduled at The Georgia War Veteran’s Home. Watching my Daddy reach out to stroke a new found friend on Monday is not the first time I’ve seen his hands graciously at work. His 58 year old truth seeking son has held a holy curiosity all of his life and sometimes I might add to my detriment. On a family vacation to St. Augustine, Florida ten year old me had narrated our journey by reading aloud every billboard advertising a road side zoo that would soon be conveniently stationed up ahead. As soon as the station wagon pulled into the zoo’s parking lot ,my car door opened wide and I dashed toward the elephant’s cage that beckoned beside the entrance into the menagerie. The elephant’s trunk was eagerly extended to me and supposing he was extending an invitation for me to take it in hand, I did as he did me in a like manner, but without the intention of letting me go. I can still see my Daddy’s hands coaxing the elephant to let go of his little boy: unwrapping with dexterity yet with strength and tenderness the elephant’s long snout from around my lanky arm. The hands of the country vet were put to good use that unforgettable day. Through the years when my life has been held in the grip of what seemed insurmountable, I haven’t forgotten how I was set free. And on a more difficult day as we waited for all the paper work to be filled out and the meeting with the team of nurses and doctors to take place , we the anxious had our own doubts and fears calmed as we witnessed the mystical communion taking place between the residents and the dogs nestled in their laps and eagerly standing guard by their wheel chairs. We’d seen this before, but yet somehow never in this way. On this day my daddy was joining the rank of this remnant of The Greatest Generation who has guarded our freedoms and preserved our liberties and were now making this place home. And I realized that day that while Doc’s hands might not be utilized in the practice of veterinary medicine, their strength and lovingkindness would be no less. Even now it’s proven to me as he reaches over to pat me on the leg to make sure I am alright. I’m that lanky little boy with the holy curiosity all over again and it couldn’t be more obvious that Doc’s hands haven’t lost their touch . (In honor of my Father, Dr. Raymond H. Mason, DVM)